


Love Me Drowned

by DrownedTrying



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:24:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedTrying/pseuds/DrownedTrying
Summary: Your life turns upside down after one fateful incident last summer. Will you survive the horrors of the night, and psychopathic killers on the loose? Or will you fall to your demise, just as BEN did a year ago?





	1. Prologue

Dull, lifeless, forest green eyes. Damp blonde hair, nearly reaching the boy’s shoulders. His skin was pale, almost a grayish blue, his lips showing no coloration. He wore dark blue jeans that were caked with blood and mud, green Converse, and a green t-shirt with a yellow Triforce of Courage emblem resting in the middle.

 

You screamed.

 

Within minutes of frantically calling the police, they arrived with an ambulance. You could only stare as two paramedics lifted the lifeless body from the side of the stream and gently resting him on a stretcher. There was no point in checking for vitals. 

 

The boy was dead.

 

A police officer questioned you about numerous things. How you found him, if you knew him, why you were there.

 

You just knew. You knew something bad happened, but you hadn’t known what it was or whom it involved until you stumbled across the body. It was nearing nightfall, and if you hadn’t noticed one of his shoes, you never would’ve found the body.

 

It was a week before the newspaper revealed who the body belonged to. A young man, freshly turned eighteen. You never knew him from school, so it was concluded he was home schooled. Left behind was a grieving single mother and twin siblings, a girl and a boy around the age of six, confused and wondering why their beloved older brother wasn’t coming home, but was being buried six feet under ground.

 

A ceremony was held for the young male. The small town of Esteroak had gathered for the memorial and burial. The young mother, in her early forties, you had guessed, had graying hair that reached her shoulderblades. Her gray eyes were overflowing with tears, and her mascara was running. She made no move to wipe her tears. She was dressed in a knee length black dress, black gloves adorned her hands and black flats hid parts of her feet. Her twins, both with bright blonde hair like their brother, sat confused next to their mother as family members spoke lovingly of their loved one. The girl was dressed in a bright green and black dress, her hair in two french braids with bows securing her hair. The boy was wearing a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and a bright green tie. It reminded you of the shade of the boy’s shirt.

 

When the viewing was over, you numbly walked to the single mother and her two children. The twins chased each other around, not old enough to comprehend what had happened, but paused when they saw you approach.

 

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” you mumbled, unable to look at the family. You were met with silence.

 

“You’re the girl who found my son?” the woman finally asked, holding her black purse tightly to keep her hands from shaking violently. You nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat as a mental image of the deceased boy flashed through your mind. 

 

“Yes ma’am, I did.” You jerked in surprise when two trembling yet strong arms wound themselves around you.

 

“Thank you for finding him,” the mother whispered in your ear. You nodded, your moves robotic as you returned the awkward embrace.The two of you remained like that for a moment or two before she pulled away, smoothing out her dress in a way you could tell that she was distracting herself, possibly willing herself to cease her tears - at least for the moment.

 

“Who’re you?” the little boy asked, blinking bright blue eyes at you. You smiled and knelt to the boy.

 

“My name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Who are you? Are you a little monkey?” You smiled more as the child puffed out his chest.

 

“I’m no monkey! I’m going to be a race car driver! My name’s Zach, and I’ll be the best racer in all the universe!” Zach proudly proclaimed.

 

“And I’m going to be a famous ballerina!” his twin sister piped up. You smiled at her in return. “My name’s Sabrina! Big Brother is going to be the world’s greatest gamer! That’s what he always told me!” You froze at Sabrina’s words, your smile frozen in place. The mother choked on a sob, earning the attention of her young children. “What’s wrong, Mama?” Sabrina asked, blinking her bright green eyes innocently.

 

“N-nothing, dear,” the woman replied once she had composed herself. She sent you a smile, though it was forced and full of sadness and grief. “My name is Hillary Peters, but you can just call me Hillary.” You outstretched your hand, shaking hers gently.

 

“Pleased to meet you, Hillary,” you replied, smiling sadly. “If...If you ever need a babysitter, please let me know.” Hillary smiled gratefully at that, and you both exchanged phone numbers. “May I go see him?” you asked. The mother of thre-no, of two, nodded solemnly.

 

“Yes...It’s time to bring these two to bed...Again, thank you so very much for everything,” Hillary said, leading her children away after saying their parting goodbyes. 

 

You moved silently and slowly to the open casket, almost nervous to peer inside at the young man. Gathering your strength, you looked in.

 

The boy’s blonde hair was brushed neatly, his bangs partly covering his brown eyebrows. His eyes were closed, and makeup was used to turn his skin to a pale peach. He wore a tuxedo with a forest green shirt, a black tie, and a golden Triforce of Courage pin at his breast pocket. His hands were folded over his chest, three tigerlilies tucked under them. Little stuffed animals and games and pictures surrounded the boy. Examining the pictures without touching anything, you found that the boy looked quite cheery, his bright emerald eyes shining, no matter the scenery or lighting. But now, as he lay in the casket, it seemed like it wasn't real, like it was just a nightmare that everyone had yet to wake up from.

 

But it was real. The boy, you observed, appeared to be sleeping, almost looking peaceful. You supposed it was for the best, seeing as it would be best for his mother and siblings. As far as you were concerned, they thought their brother was taking a very long nap and would greet them with open arms when it was their turn to nap.

 

How wrong they were.

 

With a soft sigh, you lowered your head, your (E/C) orbs sliding halfway shut.

 

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” you whispered. “I sincerely hope you’re in a better place now.” With one last glance at the “sleeping” boy, you turned and left the church.

 

Benjamin Peters was buried the next day.

 

Since the burial, life had been slow. Thoughts of Benjamin Peters clouded your mind, but with each passing day, the death had been easier to cope. You were only seventeen at the time, your mind still too young and fresh to witness such a thing.

 

It had been precisely a year since Ben’s passing, and here you were, standing before his gravestone with a bouquet of flowers. You stared down at the headstone, your mind blank, but as well as buzzing with thoughts. You faintly wonder what it would’ve been like to have met the male when he was alive and well. With a sigh, you placed the bouquet over his grave and left the graveyard.

 

You never liked cemeteries. They were, ironically, buzzing with “life.” Or, the after life, as you prefer to call it. So many spirits in one place, so many evil and so many staring. You felt overwhelmed and sick to your stomach. You wonder if Ben was among those spirits. You hoped not. From what you had gathered from the spirits willing to talk, the cemetery was a very unpleasant place to be, especially at night. You tended to avoid the cemetery altogether.

 

The wailing of a police car caught your attention. You warily glanced back at the cemetery, knowing that another body, another soul, would be trapped there. 

 

A few months back, there have been numerous suicides. Friends of the recently dead reported that their friend, in all respect, had been going crazy, muttering about a small statue of a video game character following them around, and laughter of the demented dead haunting their dreams. Many even reported their electronics turning on, and a site, Cleverbot, was it?, speaking directly to them. Within days of these strange statements, they would end up committing suicide.

 

To be honest, it was beginning to scare you, and you were one who relished in anything that gives others nightmares. But the dead were forces to be reckoned with. You knew that plain as day. 

 

With a small sigh, you started your trek back to your small home. Your parents were most likely at work, leaving you home alone. The sun’s rays warmed your back as you walked, maybe a little too warm for others, but barely warm enough for you. A shiver sent itself down your spine, causing you to rub your arms. You never liked the cold much, and being cold was something you regrettably were most of the time. 

 

You took your normal path by the forest as you walked. Usually, you enjoyed listening to the sounds of birds singing and squirrels chattering. But today, it was dead silent. You glanced into the forest, an unsettling feeling resting itself in your stomach. Something was off about the forest, and you couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the unnerving feeling of being watched, stared at, even. Either way, you quickened your pace.

 

Once your house was in view, you sped up to a jog, deciding you needed a warm mug of hot chocolate. A smile graced your lips as you fantasized of the delicious beverage, and you quickly decided to have a personal movie night. 

 

Reaching the mailbox first, you dug your keys out of your pocket and opened the small door. You quickly noticed another small key, indicating that you, or your parents, had received a package. Quickly stuffing the bills under your armpit, you locked your mailbox door and eagerly shoved the small key into its respective keyhole. Excitement overtook you as you pulled out the small package. In a messy handwriting was your name and home address, but no return address. You paused, wondering if you should open it, but mentally deciding it was probably one of your friends playing a trick on you. 

 

You sped inside your house, slamming the door closed and quickly reaching for a knife to open the package. In under a minute, you had the flaps open and an envelope in your hand. With a tilt of your head, you opened the note.

 

 _You shouldn’t have done that,_ the note read in a messy handwriting. It struck you as odd, but you brushed it off and reached for the small object wrapped terribly in a newspaper. The newspaper, you noticed, was from the day the press revealed what had happened to Benjamin Peters. Your heart clenched at the memory. Poor Ben.

 

Soon enough, the newspaper was torn off and thrown into the recycling bin, and in your hands was a strange game. It was apparent that it couldn’t be played on any of your gaming consoles, so you made a mental note to go to the retro game store that was just out of town to buy the console. The sticker was ripped off, and in place, _Majora_ was scribbled on in a black sharpie. The game itself looked old, as if it hadn’t been touched in years. For whatever reason, you were struck with fear.

 

The feeling of being watched never left.


	2. Chapter One

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! You’re here!” Zach screamed. You grinned and knelt to the small child, giving him a tight hug.

 

“Hey there, Squirt. Where’s your mom and sister?” Zach pulled away from you, making a face of disgust before leading you to the kitchen where Hillary was packing herself a lunch. “Morning, Ms. Peters,” you greeted, a smile on your face. Hillary turned and grinned at you.

 

“Oh, hello, (Y/N)! Thank you for coming on such short notice. They were understaffed, and you were the only one I could think of,” she explained. You nodded, slipping your navy blue hoodie off. 

 

“It’s no big deal. You know I’m always happy to help.” Hillary gave you a grateful smile before grabbing her purse. 

 

“I won’t get back until late, so bedtime at eight, dinner at six, and you know where I keep the Netflix remote. They had an early lunch, so you don’t have to worry about that. There’s pizza in the freezer for dinner. As always, keep the twins out of their brother’s room, no chocolate for Sabrina, and Zach’s medicine is in the cabinet. Again, thank you so much for coming,” Hillary rushed. Sabrina came down from her room and kissed her mother goodbye, Zach trying to avoid his mother’s kisses.

 

“Mom! You have cooties!” Zach exclaimed in horror and in disgust. Ms. Peters laughed before patting his head.

 

“Ah, of course I do. I’ll be off now, so be on your best behavior for (Y/N),” Ms. Peters gently scolded her children with a stern gaze.

 

“Yes, Mommy,” the twins replied in unison, giving her their best smiles. With a rushed farewell, Ms. Peters was out the door. You turned to the kids, smiling.

 

“So, how do you two little monkeys feel about watching _The Spongebob Movie?_ ” You were met with cheers as the kids raced to the living room, jumping on the couch. “Hey! Remember what happened to the five monkeys who jumped on the couch?” you called, calmly walking in. Sabrina looked sheepish while her brother stuck his tongue out at you.

 

“I’m not a monkey!” Zach cried, folding his arms. You laughed and ruffled his hair before turning on Netflix. You quickly put on the movie, looking down at Sabrina when she tugged on the hem of your long-sleeved shirt.

 

“Yes, Sabby?” 

 

“Can you please go get my blankie from the wash? Mama doesn’t let us in there ‘cause of Zach,” Sabrina explained. Zach shot her a glare, to which you smiled.

 

“Of course. I’ll be right back, okay, little munchkin?” Sabrina grinned and nodded, turning to face the T.V. You headed up the stairs to the laundry room, chuckling to yourself as you passed Zach’s messy room and Sabrina’s clean one. The bathroom was littered with dirty laundry that the twins refused to pick up and soap bottles strewn across the floor. Hillary’s door was closed partially, but you knew the twins refused to go in there. One door remained before you entered the laundry.

 

Ben’s room.

 

The door was a ghostly white color, and the handle unused. Many a time you had wondered what his room looked like, but out of respect for his family, you never entered. It always sent chills down your spine, and it often left you wondering if his soul had remained in his room, but you were uncertain. It felt empty to you, but it also felt like there was someone in there.

 

Spirits are odd beings, you concluded. 

 

Shaking your head, you finished your quest to the laundry room and retrieved the _My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic_ blanket. As you turned, you immediately noticed that Ben’s bedroom door was open just a crack. You frowned. Sabrina and Zach knew they weren’t supposed to go into their brother’s room.

 

“Sabrina, Zach, could you please come up here?” you called, crossing your arms. You heard two feet pitter-patter towards you. Frowning more, you turned towards them. “Who was in your brother’s room?” you questioned.

 

“I wasn’t,” Zach replied, shrugging with wide eyes. His sister shook her head.

 

“Me either. We were watching the movie,” she exclaimed. She smiled when she saw her blanket. With a sigh, you handed her the blanket. “Thank you!” The twins turned to leave.

 

“Now wait a minute,” you said, shifting your weight onto your left leg. The kids turned towards you, confusion written on their faces. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but if I catch this door open one more time, I’m going to tell your mother,” you sternly told them. Their eyes widened as they nodded quickly, making a beeline for the stairs. 

 

You rubbed your eyes before turning to the door. The urge to open it was overwhelming, but you remembered your promise to leave the room be. You went to the door, your hand outstretched for the handle. A cold breeze hit you, causing you to shiver. You grasped the handle, noting how cold it was. Hesitating, you stared at the door. 

 

Inside was a room belonging to a deceased boy whom had drowned a year before. It contained every secret the boy had before his death, every piece of information about him was in there. His whole story was behind this wooden door, and it was a story forgotten by the citizens of Esteroak, a story that only lived in his family’s memories.

 

You closed the door.

 

His story was one that you’d never know. Of course you wanted to hear of every little detail in his life, but it wasn’t your place to get involved. Ben’s family would tell you when they were ready, but a year was too soon. The wounds were still fresh.

 

With a sigh, you turned and went downstairs. It was still the beginning half of the movie, so you sat with the kids and decided to chill with them. However, as much as you tried to keep your focus on the movie, your mind kept drifting to the forbidden room upstairs. Try as you might, you couldn’t get that damned room out of your head.

 

Maybe one little peek won’t hurt? 

 

 _No,_ you told yourself sternly, mentally shaking your head. _You are not going into that room and it’s_ final. Sabrina noticed your internal struggle and tilted her head slightly.

 

“(Y/N)? Are you okie dokie?” she asked, her voice in a whisper. You ruffled her hair and nodded with a smile.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Watch the movie, okay?” Sabrina smiled and nodded, turning back to the T.V.

 

Time seemed to fast forward, because before you knew it, you were tucking the kids in. You glanced at the closed door once more, chewing lightly on your bottom lip. Curiosity was getting the better of you, and you found your feet moving towards the door on their own. You had a small staring contest with the door before sighing softly.

 

“I have a feeling I’ll hate myself if I do this,” you muttered. Finally making up your mind, you reached for the brass knob. You twisted the knob and gently pushed open the door. 

 

The room was extremely dark, completely covered in a thick layer of dust, and even moreso freezing.

 

You held your breath before taking out your phone, turning on the flashlight. The beam of light slowly grazed over every lump in the room, revealing a Legend of Zelda bedspread tucked neatly under the corners of the bed. A bookshelf was littered with several figurines, some from games you recognized, and games you didn’t, rather than books. Only two or three books lay on a shelf, one of them being a heavy Legend of Zelda book. It was clear Ben was a major LoZ fan. On his desk lay a bright green pair of gaming headphones, the expensive-looking computer turned off. You smiled when you noticed a unicorn and a race car sticker on each corner of the screen, realizing the twins must have put them on. Aside from the headphones and computer, games were stacked neatly in piles, their titles facing out. The mouse and keyboard were green and black with hints of gold.

 

All in all, it looked like a normal gamer’s room. 

 

Glancing around, you noticed a few pictures on top of Ben’s nightstand. What looked like a younger version of Ben, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, yet to hit his growth spurt, stood next to a tall male with sparkling green eyes and golden hair. You assumed he was the father. The taller male was dressed head to foot in Army greens, a rifle barely visible. Hillary stood next to the male, grinning widely as she held her twins, probably aged three or four. You smiled when you noticed that her hair wasn’t graying, but was a healthy bronze color.

 

What caught your eyes were numerous letters tied with a dark green ribbon. You pieced together that they were from the father, but something must’ve happened. Perhaps he was killed in war, maybe missing. Whatever had happened, the father wasn’t around any longer.

 

You sighed sadly, but perked up when you noticed a notebook lying open on the floor. Bending down, you shined your flashlight at it. The words were difficult to see, but you managed to decipher them.

 

_July 20, 2015_

_Another year has gone by. I don’t see why my birthday’s such a huge deal. It’s just another year of my life, a year closer to death. Mom overworked herself, again. I just wish she’d use her money on herself and the Twin Terrors. I’m eighteen, I have everything I could ask for._

_Anyways, I’m still confused on why I’m writing in this dumb journal. Doctor Nichols seems to think that this would help me, but it’s not doing shit. All it’s doing is making me feel worse about the whole situation. I guess it’s time for me to reveal my feelings or whatever._

_Anger, depressed, tired, kinda hungry? I don’t know. I’m angry at Max and his stupid gang for always beating on me, despite me being homeschooled. The depression follows the anger. I’m pretty tired from last night. Finally beat my high score in Army of Two, and I’m almost finished with Majora’s Mask. Took me all night, though. Just gotta figure out how to do the Fourth Day Glitch, and maybe I could finish the game tomorrow._

_Oh, you know what? Today was actually pretty cool, even though Mom outdid herself. She made this bomb ass German chocolate cake with a figure of Link on it. As in, a very rare Link collectable! Mom also got me this awesome LoZ shirt that’s in the coolest shade of green. Well, every shade is awesome to me. Mom says I have an obsession with the color. I say she’s crazy._

_But aside from that, Mom totally let me use the downstairs T.V. to play some of my new games. Sabrina got me this_ Alice: Madness Returns _game, which is pretty cool. Never was into_ Alice in Wonderland, _but it was better than expected. Though, I think the Cheshire Cat scared Sabrina._

_Zach got me some of those match box cars, all of them in green. I don’t really care for race cars, but I’m putting them on the Shelf of Collections. That’s what Mom calls it, anyways._

_I wish Dad were here with us. I know it’s stupid since he’s gone and all, but I just wanted to feel like he was with us today. I never told mom that, though. A crying mother is her child’s main weakness._

_I think that’s enough for today. All I wanna do is just sit back and play some games._

_Write in ya later._

 

A smile tugged at your lips as you reread the entry. Remembering the newspaper, you realized that Ben must’ve written this two days before you found him on the riverbed. Your smile turned sad, thinking of how horrible it was that he died so young. 

 

The air was filled by static. You shivered, feeling as if you had touched electricity. No spirit was present when your eyes darted around the room, but you felt a strong pull towards the T.V. that you failed to notice earlier. It was covered by a green fleece blanket, but you didn't give a shit, deciding to make your leave. You closed the door and jogged down the stairs, your mind still on the strange happenings in the room. The moment you reached the first floor, you stopped to let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. That’s when you noticed you had Ben’s notebook in your hands. Feeling terrible, you turned to bring it back up to his room, but you froze as your eyes looked it over once more.

 

The handwriting was the same as the one on the game you had received the day before.


	3. Chapter Two

The sound of the front door caught your attention. Without hesitation, you stuffed the notebook under your blue hoodie, instantly regretting what you did. Ms. Peters walked in, her hair frizzled, dark bags under her eyes, and her shoulders slumping. The woman was exhausted, and you knew she needed her rest. You smiled, gathering your hoodie and the hidden notebook in your arms.

 

“The kids were well behaved,” you told her. Hillary smiled tiredly.

 

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she replied, her voice groggy. She paid you, and you pocketed the money.

 

“May I ask you something?” Ms. Peters nodded, putting her purse on the kitchen table and her keys on the keyring. “What exactly did Zach do to be banned from the laundry room?” you asked, tilting your head. Hillary laughed softly, shaking her head.

 

“Last month, Zach decided to do some laundry while I made some lunch. Instead of using one scoop of soap, he dumped the whole box into the washing machine. It took us three hours to clean the soap suds, and I told him that he’s not allowed to do laundry without me,” Hillary said, laughing at the memory. You chuckled, picturing the small blonde covered in soap bubbles, telling his mom what had happened. You took out your phone and glanced at the clock. It was eleven minutes to midnight.

 

“Hey, it’s getting pretty late. I have to head home,” you told the mother. She reached for her keys once more.

 

“I’ll drive you home, okay? It’s too late for a girl your age to be walking the dark streets alone,” she said. You smiled.

 

“Thank you, but I think I’ll walk. I kinda need some time to think,” you replied. Hillary studied you for a moment before sighing.

 

“Alright. But at least take my pepper spray, okay? I don’t want to risk anything.” You thanked her, taking the spray and keeping the key ring around your thumb. “Again, thank you so much for watching the kids. I’ll call you if I need you again,” Ms. Peters said with a smile. You nodded and waved before taking your leave. The door closed silently behind you, but you noticed that Ms. Peters watched you from the window, smiling softly. You grinned at her and waved once more, disappearing down the street, pepper spray in one hand and the notebook wrapped in your jacket in the other.

 

The walk to your house seemed to take longer than usual, and the air was still. Not a noise could be heard, and for some unknown reason, not one car rolled down the streets. It was eerie, you admitted to yourself. A shiver crept up your spine, and once again, you felt eyes on you. You looked around, but you couldn’t see anyone around you. Even so, you quickened your pace. With all the recent supposed suicides, you didn’t want to stick around to get robbed or stabbed.

 

Ben was the distraction you needed. You looked down at the green notebook, smiling at his little obsession with the color. Guilt ate at the back of your mind, but you pushed it away. Besides, if you ever encountered his spirit at the Peter residence or at the cemetery, you had a better chance of not saying the wrong thing and causing a spirit to possibly throw something at you. It’s happened before, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. However, that’s a story for another time.

 

Your feet came to a stop as you heard a faint noise that sounded like ticking. It seemed to come from all around you, but you were able to pinpoint it towards a group of buildings, one of which you recognized as the local convenience store. Knuckles white with how tightly you’re gripping the pepper spray, you cautiously made your way towards the buildings. You kept your eyes narrowed, looking for any movement. Stopping at the sidewalk, you scanned the area.

 

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

 

The strange noise directed your gaze to the window of the closed convenience store. Inside the dark building stood three male figures, and you could faintly see two small females standing behind them. One of the male figures twitched repeatedly, his joints bending at odd angles. You stared at them, they stared at you.

 

The smaller female turned her head slightly, presumably speaking to one of her companions. You took a step back, and the girl’s head snapped towards you once more. A sharp glint of silver caught your eye from each stranger. The male on the left held what looked like a pipe, the male in the middle held two hatchets, and the third male held a pistol. The smaller of the females held what you guessed was a knife and an axe, and the other female held...a chainsaw? Not wasting another second to find out, you turned and bolted down the street.

 

You could hear the door to the convenience store slam open, and five sets of feet followed you. Halfway to your house, the footsteps stopped, and the only sounds that remained were your footsteps pounding against the asphalt and your ragged breathing. Running to the next street, you came to a stop, trying to catch your breath. Your side burned, and your legs were weak with exhaustion. Sweat dripped from your forehead, feeling cold against your heated skin. You quickly wiped at it, holding your side.

 

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

 

Every centimeter of your body froze in place. The ticking was off to your left, and it was slowly approaching. Your hair whipped through the air as you jerked your head towards the noise. One of the males from the store slowly approached you, twitching and twirling his hatchets as if to loosen the joints in his wrist. You saw the girl with the chainsaw a little to your right in your peripheral, but the other three were nowhere in front of you. 

 

“Wow, you don’t look like much,” a female voice interrupted the silence. You glanced towards the voice, noting the shorter girl leaning against a tree, boredly twirling her axe in one hand. She had chestnut brown hair, the tips dyed red, and her eyes an emerald green. She wore a maroon hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and dirtied black skinny jeans. Her gray Vans were splattered with a red substance that you just _knew_ was blood. She looked up at you, her pink lips set in a frown. “You guys _sure_ this bitch is worth our time?”

 

“Absolutely,” a gruff voice responded. It came from the twitching boy. “Boss’s orders.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn’t have long to wonder what they meant, for at that moment, one of the males had tackled you. You screamed as you fell, the male scrambling to pin you to the ground. He wore a white mask with black eye holes, eyebrows, and lips. His messy brown hair was a dark brown, almost black. A tan jacket splattered with fresh blood protected his torso from any jagged stones or branches, and his blue jeans were torn at the knees. He held his arm holding the pipe up, prepared to strike you. You managed to wriggle your arm free, and you pepper sprayed him. A loud cry of pain escaped his lips, his hold on you loosening. You took this to your advantage and kicked him off, quickly rising to your feet. Once more, you took off running towards your house.

 

You heard footsteps behind you once more, which encouraged your already-weak legs to run faster. It wasn’t long before they faded away, but you weren’t about to make the same mistake. You continued to run until you reached your neighbor’s house, pounding on the door. Relief washed over you when your neighbor, a man named Laurent only two years older than you, opened the door, rubbing his eyes.

 

“(Y/N)? What’re you doing? It’s a quarter after one in the morning,” he mumbled, blinking his tired brown eyes at you. They widened when you barged in, slamming the door closed. “Seriously, what’s going on?” You turned to him after locking the door.

 

“I need to call the police. I was just attacked,” you quickly explained, trembling. You hit your forehead in anger. “Dammit!”

 

“Uh...what’s wrong?” Laurent asked, grabbing his home phone and handing it to you.

 

“I dropped my jacket and a notebook,” you grumbled in irritation. With a calming breath, you dialed 911.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked. You told them your information and what had happened. “Alright, miss. Remain where you are. We’ll send an officer to your location to check out the area.” 

 

“Hey, (Y/N), you can stay in the spare bedroom if you’d like,” Laurent said with a smile once you hung up. You returned the smile with one of your own. 

 

“Thanks. It means a lot.” Laurent led you to the room, where you crawled into bed. He turned off the light and closed the door as he left. You stared at the ceiling, trembling slightly. Never had you imagined that you would be a victim of assault, much less having to fight for your life. 

 

Sometime during the night, your eyes slipped shut, but you had failed to notice a tall, faceless figure looking over you, only to disappear in a wave of static.

 

_No P.O.V._

 

“I don’t see why Slender wants her,” the young teen said boredly. Masky frowned, marching to her.

 

“Listen here, you little brat. Just because you’re a newbie, doesn’t mean you can slack off. You know the consequences if you don’t do your fucking job,” he hissed, jabbing a finger on her chest. The girl glared up at him.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get killed. So what? I just wanna know why this bitch is so important.” 

 

“Musician,” a soft voice scolded. The Musician rolled her eyes, looking over at the hooded male. Hoodie frowned at her. “We all know as Slender’s proxies that we can’t disobey Slender.”

 

“Exactly!” Toby piped up, swinging his legs from his seat on a branch in a tree. “We do what he says, no questions asked!” Toby smirked at Masky, who rolled his eyes. Nurse Ann said nothing, simply watching the scene unfold. The Musician was just another brat, but she was very efficient in her kills. Ann had to admit, it was respectable how she lured her victims into Slender’s Forest with her music. The girl reminded the nurse of a siren from Greek mythology.

 

“Whatever. Can we just go? Masky got pepper sprayed, we couldn’t catch her, and we have the end of the week to finish the job. Besides, we already know where she’s staying. All we need to do is catch her off guard, or I can lure her into the Forest. It’s a lot simpler than you guys are making it out to be,” The Musician stated, crossing her arms. Masky huffed.

 

“I expect Toby to be obnoxious and a pain in my ass, but not you,” Masky scolded. The Musician rolled her eyes once more. “Fuckin’ angsty teen,” he mumbled under his breath, adjusting his mask. Hoodie put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Masky nodded in thanks.

 

“Why don’t we turn in for the night? Everyone’s tired, and Jack needs to check Masky’s eyes,” Nurse Ann mentioned. Toby nodded and jumped down from his tree, not responding to the sickening snap that came from his ankle. The other Proxies watched for a brief moment as he limped, but shrugged, following suit to the Manor.

 

Dirtied brown boots stopped before a discarded blue hoodie, a green notebook barely poking out from under it. Pale hands moved the hoodie out of the way, firmly grasping the notebook. The figure flipped through the journal, a frown appearing on the figure’s face. Glowing red orbs surrounded by pitch black flickered upwards, anger the only emotion shown. BEN clenched his fists, storming towards the Slender Manor. One thing was certain.

 

 _He_ was the one to kill the nosy girl, not one of the damn Proxies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Musician's story is here:
> 
> http://drownedtrying.deviantart.com/art/The-Musician-580610757


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Merry Christmas! I hope all goes well for you today :3 
> 
> I actually had some news for you all.
> 
> So, I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that I'll be working to turn this fanfic into a comic. "Reader" will be classified as Gizelle. I'm currently sketching out rough drafts of every character, so it may take some time.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

The bright rays of the sun woke you, temporarily blinding you once you peeled your eyelids open. You turned over, covering your head with a pillow as you stared blankly at the room you’re in. The events of the previous night flashed through your mind, and a shiver sped down your spine. Whoever those people were, you sure sure they meant serious harm, and not just some silly joke.

 

“Hey, (Y/N), time to wake up,” Laurent said quietly, opening the door to a crack. You nodded your head to him, slowly sitting up.

 

“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you mumbled, your voice laced with sleep. The young male nodded.

 

“Of course. Also, a police officer showed up about ten minutes ago. Wanted me to tell you he hadn’t found, nor seen, anything or anyone suspicious,” he informed. You sighed in disappointment. You were hoping they’d catch the strange people.

 

“Again, thank you.” Once you stretched your joints, you stood, grimacing at the feel of your wrinkled clothing. “I’m going to head on home to change.” Laurent looked uneasy.

 

“Are you sure you should? I could lend you some clothes or go get you some from your house or….something,” he trailed off, his brown eyes filled with worry. You smiled kindly at him.

 

“I appreciate it, but I think I can survive getting some clothes,” you reassured. Laurent didn’t look convinced.

 

“But...those people...they’re-”

 

“Probably just teens celebrating Halloween two months too early,” you interrupted, though you didn’t believe your own words. If they _were_ just some random teens dressing up for fun, they wouldn’t have chased after you when you pepper sprayed one of them, and you highly doubt they would’ve broken into the convenience store just to scare someone shitless. 

 

“...I guess…” Laurent replied uncertainly, but visually relaxed at your words. You smiled more and made the bed.

 

“Well, I’ll see you later, okay?” You turned to Laurent. “Why don’t I give you my phone number so I can check in with you tonight?” you offered. He grinned and handed you his phone, allowing you to insert your number. When you were through, you left his house. You immediately felt eyes on you. Scanning the area, you saw no one. You took a deep breath and walked to your house, looking over your shoulder ever so often.

 

Your house wasn’t too big, and it wasn’t too small. It was only a few miles from the college you’ll be attending to in September, so a nice walk or a quick bus ride over would cover the transportation issue. The only problem with walking to the college was that the fastest route was next to the forest. You had always been wary of that forest, for what reason, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it’s because of the murders that were rumored to occur within the forest, about strange people residing in the forest watching and waiting for their next prey, or the amount of spirits that seemed to avoid it altogether. Whatever the case may be, you didn’t like the forest at all. 

 

Inside your house was a decent sized kitchen, living room, and dining room, two bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and a room you’re currently turning into a den. You sighed at the seemingly endless amount of boxes waiting to be opened and unpacked, but you were still waiting for furniture to arrive. Running a hand through your slightly greasy hair, you quickly decided you needed a shower. You made your way around stacks of boxes and got your shower ready before undressing and stepping under the steady stream of hot water.

 

Once you were finished, you padded to your room, towel around your body and your hair wrapped in a second towel. You smiled once you could smell the faint fragrance of (Favorite Scent) wafting off your skin. It felt so nice to be clean, your body scrubbed and rinsed of any dirt, sweat, and dead skin, your scalp free of unwanted oil and your hair damp, but silky smooth once it’s dried and brushed. You opened your closet door to reveal very few shirts and pairs of jeans hanging from black hangers. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at where one empty hanger hung, wishing you hadn’t dropped your hoodie on the side of the road. Almost instantly, you shoved the memory of last night out of your mind.

 

You decided a simple gray t-shirt and some dark blue skinny jeans would work as your attire for the day. You quickly yanked on your under garments, shirt, and jeans, slipping some gray Vans onto your feet. As a last minute decision, you yanked your last hoodie, this one black, off its hanger and pulled it on, leaving your room and towards the kitchen. Grabbing your house key, wallet, and your cell phone from the kitchen counter, you turned to leave your house, but froze. For some reason, the game that mysteriously appeared in your mailbox crossed your mind.

 

Should you grab the game and find the original owner? Or should you purchase the console it belonged to?

 

Hanging your head with a sigh, you turned and walked back to your room. Your eyes scanned the near-empty room, finally landing on the light gray cartridge. You hesitated before walking over to it, picking it up with shaking hands. 

 

 _I wonder if Ben would’ve liked a game like this,_ you wondered. _If he were alive, he’d probably know which game console it belongs to. And maybe, if he hadn’t died and if I met him then, we could’ve played a game like this together._ For some reason, a smile graced your lips as you thought of the deceased boy, but you quickly wiped the smile off your face.

 

“What am I thinking...? Fantasizing of a dead guy I don’t even know? What the hell’s wrong with me?” you scolded yourself. Shaking your head, you put the game in your hoodie pocket and left your house. 

 

The walk to the bus stop took five minutes, and it was a twelve minute wait for the bus. You boarded the bus and sat in the back. Bored out of your mind, you took out your phone and played some solitaire to pass the time. At the next stop, a brunette sat next to you, which you had thought as strange. The bus was nearly empty, so why did this guy sit next to you? You glanced over at him, making sure to be discreet about it. 

 

He wore a black hoodie, dark gray jeans, and dirtied, black vans. His messy brown hair was a dark coffee bean color, reaching just passed his ears. His skin was pale, almost as if he tended to avoid the sun and would rather stay inside all day with the curtains pulled. You bit your lip as you realized he had gauze around his eyes and was holding a seeing cane.

 

Either way, you had a bad feeling about this man.

 

“May I help you?” the male suddenly spoke, turning his head slightly to face your direction. You swallowed thickly, knowing you were caught glancing at him.

 

“N-no, sorry,” you murmured, turning back to your phone.

 

“It’s alright. Would you mind telling me when we reach 142nd street?” You flinched slightly at his voice. It was soft, almost a whisper, as well as raspy, as if he hadn’t used it for a while.

 

“No problem,” you replied. The male smiled and held out his hand, holding it a little bit away from you.

 

“I’m Jack Nichols,” the man, Jack, said. Though the feeling of unease never lessened or disappeared, you smiled and slipped your small, (Skin Color) hand into his, gripping it firmly.

 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Pleased to meet you.” 

 

“Likewise,” he responded with a smile. “If you don’t mind telling me, but where are you going? It...isn’t exactly, well, safe.” 

 

“Oh, I’m heading to a retro game store,” you responded with a smile. “I got this game in the mail a few days ago, so I’ll see if they have the correct console for it.” Jack perked up at this.

 

“A game?”

 

“Heh...yeah...kinda strange, isn’t it? It just showed up in my mailbox, no return address or anything,” you explained. Jack seemed to study you for a moment.

 

“What game was it?” he asked slowly. Your hand went to your pocket to pull it out to show him, but you remembered he was blind.

 

“Erm...It just said ‘Majora.’ The sticker was ripped off.” Jack paled, definitely ‘staring’ at you. “What’s wrong?” you questioned, the bad feeling worsening.

 

“Well,” Jack began, lowering his head and beginning to play with the strap on his seeing cane, “I’m a therapist. There’s this boy I used to help a little over a year back. Benjamin Peters. He played a lot of games, especially since he had to be homeschooled due to some problems. Poor kid died a year ago.” 

 

“Benjamin Peters?” you repeated, eyes wide. Jack nodded. You remembered the entry from Ben’s journal, and how he mentioned a Dr. Nichols. You had just met Ben’s therapist, and if you were completely honest to yourself, you were both excited and a little bit scared. Maybe now you can learn more about the deceased male. “I’m the one who found him,” you said, your voice small. Jack’s head snapped up.

 

“ _You_ found him?” It was your turn to nod. 

 

“Yeah, I did. He seemed like he was a pretty nice guy, according to his family.” 

 

“He really was,” Jack trailed off. He sighed. You bit your lip.

 

“Do you mind telling me about him?” you asked. Jack smiled faintly, probably at a memory he had shared with Ben.

 

“He was such a good kid,” Jack began. “He always did what his parents asked him to, he did his homework on time, and he was really good at video games. Ben had even told me he wanted to go to college to be a video game designer. I can’t tell you how many times he came into my office, telling me about this new game he had gotten. I should probably start at the beginning of his story, though.

 

His father was in the Army, so they had moved around quite a bit. If I remember correctly, Ben was born somewhere in Ireland while his dad was stationed there. They moved back to the States when he was four or five, maybe six years old. When he was ten, his mother gave birth to his siblings. Ben had always told me how they ‘ruined his life,’ but I knew he loved them more than life itself. It was around Valentine’s Day when his father was deployed to Iraq, but he came back in a coffin three months later. The loss of his dad was Ben’s downfall. He became quiet and reserved, never spoke unless spoken to. But that’s only the start of it.

 

After his father passed away, Max, Ben’s best friend, started harassing Ben, calling his dad a murderer and whatnot. The bullying began verbal, but soon grew to be physical. That was around the time Ms. Peters signed Ben up to be my patient. I believe she was convinced he was self harming, but the poor boy wasn’t one who favored seeing his own blood, nor having any injuries. She never knew about the bullying, and I trust that you’ll keep it a secret as well. Anyways, there were days he’d arrive limping, and days he’d come in and just sit on the couch, staring at the wall. 

 

The day of his eighteenth birthday, he came in, and I, of course, being his therapist and friend, had given him a small cake and a gift. I’d like to think he would’ve enjoyed it, but I have no way of knowing. He was so excited about one of his games...I forget what it was called, maybe it was a copy of Majora’s Mask, I’m not sure, but Ben was addicted to it, and was telling me on how he was so close to finishing it. I never knew if he finished it, but at the funeral, I heard his mom giving Max the game, so it may be with him as far as I know,” Jack explained. You sat there silently, taking in the information. Instead of feeling relieved about hearing about Ben, you felt your stomach drop. 

 

“Oh, this is your stop,” you mumbled, looking out the window. Jack smiled and stood, gripping his cane tightly.

 

“Thank you for telling me. I was worried I had missed it,” he said. “Here, let me give you my number incase you wanted more information.” With a shaky smile, you punched the therapist’s number into your phone.

 

“Thank you for telling me about Ben, Jack.” Jack smiled more in your direction.

 

“Not a problem. Have a good day, and have fun with your new game!” Jack waved before exiting the bus. What you had failed to notice was Jack tossing the cane into the bushes and pulling out a deep blue mask, slipping it over his face before disappearing into the forest. 

 

Before long, you stepped off the bus and headed in the direction of the game store, still thinking about Ben’s story. You felt even worse about what had happened, and imagined what his life would’ve been like if you had met him before he died.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he’d still be alive.

 

You shook your head, pushing the thought out of your mind as you entered the game store. The cashier smiled at you, ringing up her customer’s newly bought items.

 

“Welcome to The Smash Bros Game Store!” she said happily. You returned the smile and walked around, gazing at what they had to offer. Old games from 1998 and recent games littered the shelves, and you noticed with a happy sigh that there were more retro games than the newer games. Some of the games brought back memories from when you were younger, playing games with friends and your parents until it was time to either eat, go to bed, or for your friends to go to their own homes. You waited until the cashier had served her last customer before walking up to her.

 

“I have a question,” you said. The cashier smiled at you, motioning for you to continue. “I received a game in the mail a few days ago, but I don’t have the correct console for it. Would you mind telling me what console it belongs to, and if you had any?” You pulled the game from your pocket and placed it on the counter. The cashier picked it up, her brows furrowing.

 

“Strange, I could’ve sworn I saw the same exact game a few weeks ago. Some guy named Max came in, asking if he could sell it, but we couldn’t get it to work,” she explained. Your smile faded.

 

_Max? As in, Ben’s childhood best friend, and his bully?_

 

“To answer your question, this game belongs to the Nintendo 64. I’m pretty sure we have one in the back, and maybe even a few controllers. While I go get it, feel free to look around. I’ll test out the console on the T.V. over there,” the cashier said, motioning over to a box T.V. that currently showed the Nintendo 64 logo spinning slowly. She left right after she saw you nod. With a sigh, you walked around some more, finding yourself in the N64 game section. You saw Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Donkey Kong 64, Jet Force Gemini, Super Smash Bros, Mario Kart 64, Harvest Moon 64, and many more. Some of the games appeared to be in great condition, while others looked worse for wear.

 

 _I wonder if Ben visited this store,_ you thought. _Now that I think of it, it seems like his death is just a mystery I’m trying to solve._ You laughed to yourself, but turned when you heard footsteps approaching from behind, only to see the cashier.

 

“Miss? I have a console, and it works on the T.V. I’ll throw in two controllers for free,” she said, smiling.

 

“Oh, thank you!” You pocketed your game once more and pulled out your wallet, handing the cashier the money as she bagged your new Nintendo 64. You paid and thanked her once more before leaving, waving goodbye to the cashier. Instead of heading straight home, you took the bus to the cemetery, wanting to visit Ben’s grave. You had no idea why, but you just felt like you had to go there. 

 

The ride to the cemetery was quiet. One or two people accompanied the bus, aside from you and the driver. You stared out the window, letting your mind go blank as you watched the world speed into a blur behind you. Before you knew it, you were stepping off the bus and headed towards the cemetery.

 

The feeling of being watched returned.

 

You ignored the feeling, slipping through the gate and heading towards Ben’s grave. You smiled slightly when you recognized his headstone, the flowers you left two days prior a little wilted, but still in pretty good shape. No words left your lips as you set the bag next to the headstone, sitting in front of it. You could feel the spirits around you begin to stir uneasily. Whether it was your presence or something else, you weren’t too sure.

 

“You know,” you spoke, breaking the silence and gathering the attention of some spirits, “I really wish I could’ve met you when you were alive. It sounds like you desperately needed a friend. Maybe we could’ve played video games together. Hang out and whatnot, y’know?” You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly. 

 

“He’s not there,” a child’s voice said, sending chills down your spine. You whirled around to see a young girl, perhaps eight years old, sitting on the gravestone behind you. She had long, curly, auburn hair, her eyes were a bright emerald, and she wore a pink nightgown with the name _Sally_ sewn into the right shoulder. What bothered you about her were the bruises and cuts littering her body, blood stains on her nightgown and blood dripping down from a gash in her forehead. Her pale lips were drawn back in a smile that you were sure would haunt you in your dreams.

 

“What happened to you?” you questioned the deceased girl. Her smile widened to a grin, showing her pearly-white teeth.

 

“He’s not there,” Sally repeated, her eyes narrowed at you as she ignores your question. You swallow thickly. She must be the reason why the others are at unease. Or one of the few reasons.

 

“Then where is he?” Sally began giggling, a sound that shot fear straight into your heart.

 

“Around,” was her reply. You decided you needed to leave. _Now._

 

“Alright, Sally, is it? I really have to go,” you rushed, grabbing your bag.

 

“But don’t worry,” she continued through her fits of giggles, “you’ll be seeing him very soon.” You froze at her words, looking up at her in fear and shock.

 

“What do you mean?” Sally only laughed harder before disappearing. Your heart raced inside your chest, every breath seemingly not enough to fill your lungs, and every intake beginning to grow painful. You stood, giving Ben’s headstone a horrified glance, before sprinting out of the cemetery, not noticing a faceless creature watching you from a block away. When you made it to your house, you quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut after entering, locking both locks. 

 

What did Sally mean? Would you really be seeing Ben soon? And why did the very thought scare you shitless?

 

You took a few calming breaths before regaining your thoughts. Spirits tended to say things they knew would bother the living, whether or not the living heard them. Perhaps the spirit of Sally was pulling your leg after hearing what you had said to Ben’s grave.

 

Somehow, you just knew it wasn’t the case.

 

Nervous laughter escaped your lips as you ran a hand through your hair. You chide yourself on being silly, especially letting a spirit get to you. That was one of the most dangerous things you could do. With an exhausted sigh, you walked to your room, hooking up the Nintendo 64 to your T.V. and putting the game in. As you let it warm up, you settled yourself on your bed. Your room, you noticed, dropped at least ten degrees, and with a shiver, you pulled your blanket around your shoulders. 

 

Something didn’t feel right. Not at all.

 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you realize the screen of your T.V. remains black, but distorted music plays through the speakers. The music would play normally, but then play in reversed, the whole while sounded as if bits and pieces were misplaced or missing completely. The sound of dark laughter flowed through the speakers and filled your room, the lights flickering. You stood, hands shaking. You reached towards the Nintendo 64, quickly flipping the power switch. All sounds died, but a moment later, they blasted through the speakers at a deafening level. You screamed, covering your ears in pain. The lights flickered more violently, one of the bulbs exploding within seconds. Frantically, you yanked the T.V.’s plug out of the wall, stumbling back and clutching your ears as the music and laughter continued. Blood seeped from your nose, and you could taste the blood beginning to pool in your mouth.

 

**”HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”**

 

Hands seemed to wrap themselves around your neck, and your eyes were blinded by what felt like a blindfold. Your ankles and wrists began to burn, and you immediately recognized the feeling as rope burns. For a moment, you briefly remembered the old tire swing held by ropes in the park next to your childhood home. You screamed for help, but the blood in your mouth was quickly replaced by water, never ending water that seemingly refused to be spit out or swallowed. The water kept coming, forcing its way into your lungs. You could feel the burning sensation explode throughout your lungs and throat, screaming for oxygen. Your body thrashed around, desperately fighting for your life. A male voice continued to laugh as you began to grow weaker from the fight, your subconscious accepting that you would die right here, right now.

 

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” the male voice whispered in your ear. You could feel his ice cold lips ghosting over the skin of your ear, and you tried to jerk away. Without warning, every sensation disappeared as a pounding on your front door echoed throughout the house. You could faintly hear Laurent shouting your name before finally kicking the door down. You were hunched over, hugging yourself as you sobbed and threw up any water or stomach acid in your body.

 

“(Y/N)! Oh my god, hang in there!” Laurent cried, quickly calling 911. After the call was made, he carefully yet quickly carried you to the bathroom so you could finish vomiting in the toilet. Though he moved quickly, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You were pale, shaking, drenched with sweat, and blood and vomit trailing down your chin and to your throat. You screamed almost immediately.

 

Standing by your T.V. was the figure of Ben, a twisted smile adorning his face, his eyes red and black, crying blood, and suited in a soaking Link costume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing feedback, so please leave a comment on how you felt about this chapter! :3


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